


Firsts

by powerandpathos



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Bathroom Sex, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, High School, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8380234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerandpathos/pseuds/powerandpathos
Summary: Based on an ask/request to “write a fanfic about he tian and momo’s first time or first kiss”.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted here: http://thefearofthetruth.tumblr.com/post/150822247274/firsts

‘ _Yes,_ I wanted it to be special. Yes, I wanted it to _mean_ something. Yes, I—I wanted it to be more than you ever fucking gave me.’

‘Than what I _gave_ you?’ He Tian said. ‘I didn’t fucking _give_ you _anything_.’

‘That’s right,’ Guan Shan said. ‘You didn’t, did you? All you did was take.’

‘Oh grow up, for fuck’s sake.’

‘ _Grow up_? _Me_? I’m not the one going around acting like a fucking child with no morals and no _concept_ that you can’t just fucking _grab_ at what you fucking _want_ , He Tian.’

‘Do I have to keep fucking apologising?’

Guan Shan stared. ‘Are you fucking kidding me? You think—You think that was your version of an _apology_?’

‘What?’

‘You never fucking said _sorry_ , He Tian. Not once. In two months. You’re so—so _deluded_ by your own fucking god complex that you didn’t even say _sorry_.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Is that better?’

Guan Shan was shaking his head. ‘ _You’re ridiculous_ ,’ he murmured. ‘You—You know that when you apologise because someone asks you to it _kind of_ loses the sentiment.’

‘You tell me to apologise so I do. And then you tell me you don’t want it. What exactly _do you want_ , Guan Shan?’

And that, really, was the question. That was the whole thing. _What did he want?_ Because he knew he hadn’t wanted He Tian’s tongue down his throat. He knew that he couldn’t stand the distance and the awkward silence. Couldn’t stand this, either, this pull, this back-and-forth, words barbed and sharp and hitting, every time, too close to their skin. Knew that he’d read the note every night because he thought it was supposed to be telling something more than it probably was. But that was wistful, wasn’t it? And if it was, what did it mean that perhaps he _hoped_ it was?

He Tian was looking at him. Really _looking_ at him. Like, perhaps, he hoped for an answer.

Like Guan Shan had one to give him.

‘I don’t know,’ he said.

‘You don’t know?’ He Tian echoed. ‘Then how do you know what you _don’t_ want, huh? How do I even know if I’m… How am I supposed to know if I’m hurting you?’

‘Guess you can work that out by whether I’m trying to punch you or not, can’t you?’

He Tian threw him a dark look. ‘You’re…’

Guan Shan waited. ‘I’m…?’

‘Infuriating,’ he settled on.

‘You’re not angry.’

‘I am.’

‘No,’ Guan Shan said. ‘You’re not.’

And He Tian laughed, like, yeah, Guan Shan _did_ know him better than he did sometimes. Saw something in him that others didn’t. Like there was even something worth looking at. Something that wasn’t surface-level.

‘ _I_ should be angry,’ Guan Shan said.

‘And you’re not,’ He Tian guessed.

‘No, actually, I am.’

They were having this conversation in a bathroom. Of all the places in the school. It had been He Tian who dragged him in; hand wrapped around his wrist (not, for once, his throat), while he pulled him in and the other students took one look at them and ran. The bell had rung a while ago. It wouldn’t be the first class Guan Shan had missed. Might be the first time he’d missed it because of him – with him. 

He was aware of their reflection in the smudged mirrors; tried not to look at what the two of them looked like together. How he looked when he talked to He Tian. He thought, probably, that he wouldn’t look like himself, and that He Tian wouldn’t quite look as awful as he saw with his own eyes.

At first it had been hard silences and harder stares. He Tian had been looking at him like he was waiting for him to say something; like he had anything to say. Like it was his turn. Like it wasn’t _He Tian_ who was supposed to be offering the apology. He, in fact, offered nothing other than some taciturn, dour look of expectation.

Was it even, Guan Shan had wondered, anything close to guilt?

Even now he doubted it.

‘Are you angry because I kissed you?’ He Tian asked now. ‘Because I stole some sort of _first_ from you?’

‘Just because you’re an unsentimental asshole, doesn’t mean other people aren’t allowed to be.’

And He Tian said, ‘You’re kidding me.’ He was at looking him in a way – with a kind of tone – that said that Guan Shan felt he should be, like, _guilty_ for something. Like he was being ridiculous. It was the same look – the same voice – that he’d used afterwards. ‘You’re not really mad,’ he’d said. ‘It won’t kill you. Don’t be so _serious_.’

‘Is it a fucking crime?’ Guan Shan found himself saying now. Because he still _felt_ the way He Tian made him feel, but it had a kind of elective power over him – a power that meant he could, if he wanted, ignore it. Put it to one side to be dealt with later. Which was preferable than any option of _now_. ‘Is it a fucking crime to actually want something to _mean_ something for once? To actually – to actually want something that doesn’t just come from shoving someone around the fucking schoolyard and from _torment_ and from this – this spite you’ve got.’

‘Spite?’

‘You’re so – you’re so fucking _alone_ , He Tian,’ Guan Shan told him. ‘You’re _so_ alone. And when you’re around other people you don’t know what to do and I’m _sorry_ that you’re childhood was apparently _so_ fucked up that you—’

‘Fuck. You.’

‘—that the only way you can get close to someone is by _hurting_ someone. I’m _sorry_ that you clearly don’t know that, like, intimacy can be something that’s actually fucking _nice_ and that you’re so _desperate_ for validation that your whole self worth comes from other people who don’t really _like_ you that much and—’

He knew what He Tian would do, which didn’t make sense, because it meant he also said it all because he _wanted_ He Tian to do it.

To shove him until the base of his spine bruised against the edge of the sink. Until he winced as his head smashed against the mirror. Until He Tian’s forearm was digging against his throat in a way that fucking _hurt._

And He Tian—he was _smiling_.

Like, perhaps, he knew why Guan Shan said it, too.

Every time, Guan Shan thought distantly, that smile seemed to be a darker thing. Made of something that was growing colder in him, some Dorian Grey anomaly, where the cruelty of him, the vileness of him, was growing on the inside and showing on the inside, and everyone could see it; couldn’t keep it locked away in a painting.

But perhaps it was darker only because Guan Shan chose to see it that way. Because he wanted to see darkness in it without risking anything that was lighter. Even kinder.

Whatever it was, it made Guan Shan feel, almost, like he was looking in himself from the outside.

‘You fucker,’ He Tian said. Guan Shan could feel the warmth of his breath on his face; could taste cigarettes and mint leaves. ‘Fucking asking for it now, aren’t you?’

‘Am I?’ Guan Shan said. Couldn’t quite fathom why he was saying it. _Why was he saying any of it?_

And for a moment neither of them moved. Hanging on some cusp – some precipice of near-violence. Of promise of what could be. For a moment, He Tian seemed to hover, seemed to let his eyes linger too long on Guan Shan’s lips, to enjoy the feeling of being so close on him – wasn’t even trying to hide it, and the openness of it was jarring, because Guan Shan realised he had _never_ hidden it, and how had he been so _blind_.

But then he stepped back, let his arm fall from against his throat that had started to _hurt_ , made him feel nauseous _._ He Tian stepped back and _looked_ at him.

And he said, ‘Turn around.’

Guan Shan looked back at him, startled – _really_ looked at him, not the way He Tian was looking at him like he was seeing something else. ‘What?’

‘Turn around.’

Guan Shan tried to gage him. Tried to work out if this was really happening.

But of course it was, and He Tian wasn’t blinking, and there was something lying quiet in his voice that made Guan Shan, wordlessly, do it. And when he turned around, put his hands on either side of the sink because He Tian told him to, he did it all with He Tian watching him. Eyes locked through the mirror.

It shouldn’t have been intimate. And if it was it should have made him want to look away. But there was something bare and open about it that was too much, and that was maybe _why_ Guan Shan couldn’t look away. Because it was a freight train heading towards a cliff edge. It was the held breath before a surprise birthday. It was – it was something that teetered towards so many things. So many possibilities of what they could make themselves – of what they could be – of what they could do to each other.

Cruelty and apathy mixed with something heady and lustful and wanting. And something like teenage loneliness and a desperation that was adult. Something that was chemicals and widened pupils and something more. All of it was something more. But the _more_ was the scary part. The _more_ lingered and leaned towards something that they didn’t understand and maybe didn’t want to. At least, they were in that state of mind, that age, where they _presumed_ the other didn’t want to, while maybe both of them did.

‘I’m going to touch you,’ He Tian said, stepped forward until he was against his back, made him still, lips brushing his ear, his cheek, like he was fucking marking him without realising it. ‘I’m going to touch you,’ he said again, ‘and you’re going to watch yourself. Only yourself. Won’t even look at me.’

He Tian had his hand under his shirt; moved his fingers across his stomach, his abdomen, until Guan Shan could feel himself tremble.

‘We’re in a bathroom,’ he said, voice wavering, watching himself in the mirror like he’d been told to do. Cheeks already flushed. ‘We’re at _school_.’ Anyone could walk in.

And it startled him that this was his concern now. After everything he’d just said, after everything he’d _felt_ on that day, that anger, that outrage, that _hurt_ , his complaint was only now that someone might see.

Perhaps that complaint lay in the knowledge that he was scared that someone might see him _enjoying it_.

‘You like it,’ He Tian said, like he could hear what he was thinking. ‘You need this. Need to get over whatever this is.’

‘What—what is this?’ Guan Shan murmured, shaking lightly because He Tian’s fingers were so _close_. So close that if he stood on tiptoes He Tian’s hand would slip down and he’d be right _there_.

He Tian laughed, low and vibrating and it wasn’t really even a laugh – just sound and sensation – and he said, ‘Take a guess.’

And then he gripped him, and his hand was warm and tight. His fingers were so long, wrapped around him like they could take him twice if he needed to, and Guan Shan had to stop his hips from jerking at the breathless sensation of it.

 _‘Look at yourself_ ,’ He Tian said – demanded with a sharp squeeze that _did_ make him breathless, sound catching at the back of his throat.

Guan Shan hadn’t realised he wasn’t looking, but he knew he hadn’t when it took so long to focus his gaze, draw it from some hazy subspace, and when he caught his eyes at last in the mirror they were blown and his mouth had fallen open and how did his lips look so dark?

And he could _see_ He Tian watching him, out the corner of his eye. Watching every widening of his mouth; watching every half-shutter of his eyelids, timed it with every perfect pull-tug stroke that made his toes curl and knees buckle and him grateful that he was holding on _thank god_.

And He Tian’s other hand was beneath his shirt, nails dragging upwards over his skin, across his ribs, until he flinched because the sensation was too much, until his fingers wandered across his goosebumps flesh, across his chest, dragged over his nipples and made him want to hang his head but he couldn’t because he had to _watch_.

‘Look at you,’ He Tian murmured, and there was only the slightest sound of friction, something quiet and slick because He Tian had spat into his palm and he was circling the head of him, fingers slick with pre-come, and only the slightest brush of movement because now Guan Shan couldn’t help but jerk into He Tian’s hand, soft and tight and _there_ , and then suddenly the hand wandering over his chest was reaching up through the neckline of his long-sleeved t-shirt and was tight around his jaw.

‘You’ll stand there and you’ll take it,’ He Tian growled, and everything felt crushing. ‘You’ll enjoy it because _I’m_ giving it to you. Not because you’re _taking_ it from me, alright?’

‘I—’

‘ _Alright_?’ ****

‘ _Yes_ ,’ he whispered, swallowing, forcing himself to still and just let He Tian do it. Force himself to keep _looking_ at himself and the mess he was becoming even while his eyes drifted out of focus and he was lost in it, for a while.

Lost in the whole thing: He Tian, hand wrapped around his cock in a school bathroom. Footsteps wandering past, teachers, students, and the way He Tian kept _going –_ went _faster_ – and Guan Shan was distantly aware that if someone did walk in, if someone saw them, He Tian wouldn’t even stop. Would just stare at them while he pumped his hand and Guan Shan had to stand there holding onto the sink and stare at himself in the mirror while someone watched because He Tian _told him to._

‘Do you ever do what you’re just goddamn told?’ the teachers used to ask him.

And he would say no. Except that wasn’t true, because he’d always done what He Tian told him to, hadn’t he? Even something like this. Something that was nothing but _depravity_.

‘I’m close,’ he whispered eventually, kind of incredulous that he’d even lasted that long because he’d been hard even before He Tian knocked him against the wall, and because he could feel He Tian pressing up against him, feel the heat of him, the length of him against his lower back. Hadn’t even touched himself but to press against Guan Shan like that sensation was good enough.

He Tian didn’t say anything, just gripped him tighter until it almost hurt, started moving his hand up and down faster until it was just friction, no finesse, just to get to that moment of release.

Guan Shan wriggled, tried to move away, because he was going to come all over his hand in such a fucking mess, but He Tian was holding onto him too tightly, pressing against him so his thighs were bruising against the lip of the ceramic sink and his fingers were _aching_ they were holding on so tightly.

‘ _He Tian_ , I—’

But He Tian cut him off, forced his jaw around so his lips were pressed against his, tongue in his mouth just like the first time, and this time Guan Shan just let him because he could feel his own tongue moving, his own lips moving against his, searching for something, wanting something, _taking_ something from him while He Tian took, too.

And he couldn’t do anything but let him take and let it rip through him like live wire shocks, like he was reaching something higher – had reached something – that he couldn’t put a name to, because he was fucking _gone_ , crying out into He Tian’s mouth; had to let He Tian hold him up, fingers bruising into his skin while he trembled and went limp because it was like feeling something he never had before. Was something he had never had before.

And when he came back to himself, his eyes, instinctively, met He Tian’s in the mirror, watched as He Tian let go of him with a faint, lingering trail of his fingers that made him shake, oversensitive, and he raised his hand to his own mouth, stuck his fingers against his tongue where Guan Shan’s had just been, sucked everything off, glistening and wet, everything that Guan Shan had just spent on him.

And Guan Shan turned his head, willingly, when He Tian kissed him again, until he could taste himself on He Tian’s tongue. Thought that nothing had ever tasted so good as long as he got to taste it from him. Moaned into his mouth, wanton, knew he’d hear the sound of himself later when he was falling asleep, and wouldn’t believe that he’d done everything he’d just done.

And eventually He Tian broke away, pressed his face back up against his cheek, let his eyes wander over Guan Shan in the mirror, and they both looked exactly like they’d done everything they just had.

His eyes were shining, dark and glittering like the surface of a frozen lake at night, and he said, ‘Was that a better first kiss?’

* * *

Later, Guan Shan would argue that it happened when they went camping in Huma County over the Christmas break, had to press against each other’s flesh to keep warm, stared up at the stars that they had never seen so bright in the city, saw the steam rise off their bodies as it rose off the Heilongjiang River in the morning.

Later, He Tian would say it happened on New Year’s, a stolen thing that they shared drunk in He Tian’s bed that seemed to last hours, and was actually the only thing they did before they fell asleep and wondered if it meant they’d get to spend the year together.

Later, Guan Shan would say it happened at the carnival they went to, standing in the hall of mirrors, getting to see themselves and only themselves, breathing up against the glass until, almost, they were only murky outlines that thrummed and trembled against each other.

Later, He Tian would argue that it happened in the steam room at the 24/7 gym, at three in the morning, legs parted and Guan Shan’s hand moving up his thigh. Or, no, at Guan Shan’s mother’s birthday party, when He Tian went for a cigarette in the small garden at the back of the apartment block, and Guan Shan breathed in the taste of it – the taste of him in the dark. Or, no, maybe when He Tian took them to Jiuzhai Valley for the weekend and they got to press against each other in breathlessness when they fell into the Five Flower Lake, or when they passed in school hallways, too quick for anyone to really decide if it had happened, or on the train, or outside the corner shop by He Tian’s apartment, or when they said goodbye for a weekend that Guan Shan had to spend working or He Tian had a basketball match.

And, the beauty of it, was that it didn’t _matter_ when it happened, because they could pretend that every time was the first. Got to live through each kiss, each lingering touch, each breathless, burning moment like it was the first, like they decided when it happened, and they both thought that was probably the best way to be. And eventually it was like that time by the basketball court, a fallen water bottle soaking into the tarmac, had never even happened.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted here: http://thefearofthetruth.tumblr.com/post/150822247274/firsts


End file.
